


Slight Miscalculation

by Nillegible



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Ghost!Tobirama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Madara is in love with a Ghost, Or He Will Be When I'm Done..., Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nillegible/pseuds/Nillegible
Summary: It was the slightest miscalculation. Fractional to an absurdly small amount. Something that wouldn't have mattered at all in any other context, even to a perfectionist like Tobirama.Tobirama misses his mark by one hour, four minutes, and forty-three seconds, give or take fifteen, and when you compare it to the time he's jumped back through, (twenty-two years, nearly) that seems like such an infinitesimal period of time. Surely the consequences of that mistake could not be life changing?Yet Tobirama opens his eyes in the past, just in time to see his sword slide deep into Izuna's side. Sees the pain and hatred on the other man's face, and for the first time in nearly his whole life Tobirama panics. He triggers another seal, and vanishes with the Uchiha heir, to the horror of those around them.





	1. The Redwoods

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first Naruto fanfiction! I hope you like it.
> 
> The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe. It's not only their unbelievable stature, nor the color which seems to shift and vary under your eyes, no, they are not like any trees we know, they are ambassadors from another time. - John Steinbeck

For one moment their fight is exactly as equal as always, neither of them giving an inch. Then suddenly Tobirama is gone, not where he’s supposed to be. Pure instinct makes Izuna turn around but he’s too late and off balance besides. For this one moment, Izuna does not stand a chance. That’s all Tobirama has ever needed.

Tobirama stabs him dispassionately. (When asked in the future, Izuna would stand by this claim. Until that moment Tobirama had looked colder than ice, his usual visage). The sword slides through him straight and _up_ , and Izuna realizes that its over. Then something odd happens. Tobirama looks at his sword deep in Izuna's stomach, and his eyes go wide. If Izuna deigned to attribute human feelings to this monster, he would call his expression _horrified_. His free hand wraps around Izuna's arm and there's a flash of yellow light.

They land roughly on the ground, in a clearing not far from the rest of the forces. Izuna's breath is knocked out by the harsh landing and the pain from his injury exacerbates it. He's a shinobi though, he's _Uchiha Izuna,_ so he tries to get up immediately anyway. Tobirama pushes him back down with a single hand. His other hand is already glowing a faint green, in an unfamiliar jutsu that he's focusing right above Izuna's wound. Izuna would like to struggle, wants to slip a kunai out of his boot and stick it through Tobirama's neck, but he has been immobilized. "Let me go, you bastard!" but he's not strong enough to actually push away. Tobirama gives him a flat look that pins him with his red eyes but doesn’t stop the jutsu. "What are you doing to me?" Izuna snarls. Only then does he realize that his pain is easing.

Was Tobirama _healing_ him?

The Senju turns back to his abdomen, now using both hands. Izuna is too bewildered to move. "I miscalculated," Tobirama finally says, glancing up again. "I mean I didn't want you dead, just. You Know. Incapacitated, maybe permanently." he mutters that last bit, perhaps under the impression Izuna couldn't hear him.

"You didn't want me dead? Izuna asks, aghast, because this makes no sense. He had seen their battle not five minutes before, thank you, and Tobirama was definitely trying to kill him. "You want all the Uchiha dead, you monster! You've killed-" he coughs slightly, as his left lung suddenly tingles. It's too hard to continue talking so Izuna stares up at the crazy Senju. Tobirama looks…different. Slightly manic. His chakra, usually so impersonal and deadly, is looser now, wisps curling away and around him. Tobirama stops and takes a deep breath.

"I've healed you halfway, this won't kill you any longer. It might still take you months to heal," he says. He's holding Izuna down to the ground again though, so Izuna can't move. Red red eyes bore into Izuna's, (so disturbingly different from the Sharingan Izuna is familiar with). "But I can heal you fully if you give me your word that you'll never kill a Senju again."

Izuna can't help it, he laughs, even if it pulls at his admittedly less-painful-than-before injury. "Really, if you think I won't protect my people just because you’ve spared my life Senju, then you're insane. I would never, NEVER betray my clan, and you can slit my throat now and spare yourself the trouble because I will do anything I can to hunt down-" Izuna trails off as he realizes Tobirama is ignoring him.

"What if," says Tobirama and his words are oddly deliberate. "If I swear on my brother's life that I will never fight to kill in any battle with the Uchiha ever again, would you take the same oath?" Izuna freezes. That is…that is too good to be true, really. For all that Hashirama is the most powerful of the Senju, more Uchiha have fallen to Tobirama's blade than any other in this generation.

"No," says Izuna honestly. "I wouldn't, because I do not trust you, Senju, to keep your word." Tobirama stares at him for longer, then nods once, sharp. And then…then he calls up the green healing jutsu again and continues to heal Izuna. "What are you doing?" Izuna hisses.

"I'm healing an ungrateful brat," says Tobirama. He glances up again, "Consider it a leap of faith." Izuna is too bewildered to retaliate. He's feeling strong enough now to activate his Mangekyou, and he watches the other man, to make sure he's not sabotaging him somehow. Surprisingly, he isn't. Izuna has no idea what this means. His greatest enemy had just saved his life, demanded an oath Izuna would not swear, and now continues to heal him without it. And although Izuna is usually excellent at determining human intent, he's drawing a complete blank.

All he can see is that Tobirama is more exhausted than he is letting on, his chakra reserves are running low. The healing jutsu he is using is chakra-intensive; the Senju's hands are glowing so brightly that they make Izuna's eyes water. And that he's not lying.  He asks finally, "Why are you doing this?"

Tobirama is quiet for so long that Izuna almost thinks he won't answer. "Too many people have died already, don't you think?" he asks, eyes not meeting Izuna's own. He's breathing harder, his chakra dipping alarmingly low. If Izuna was a better man, he would tell Tobirama to stop. As it is, he's too astonished to spare the thought.

Who would have thought that Senju Tobirama, the orphan maker, the most vicious, ruthless shinobi of their generation had grown tired of their wars?

Izuna sees it a moment before it happens, because of his Mangekyou. He has time to cry out, "Brother, NO!" but Madara, in his rage, does not hear him.

Before Tobirama can do anything but grasp his sword, Madara's gunbai has buried itself into Tobirama's ribs, nearly slicing him in half.

This moment will forever be buried in Izuna's mind with the crystal clarity that the Sharingan offers. A splatter of sharp, tangy blood on Izuna's face, and Tobirama's eyes widen in shock, surprise, then his face crumples in pain. Madara tosses him aside with the gunbai still wedged in him and falls to his knees beside Izuna.

"What did he do to you, are you okay?" Panicked but gentle fingers prod Izuna's stab wound, which has now closed so far that it can barely be called an injury. Izuna's had worse from training with Father. He's had worse training with _Madara_. Madara's fingers cradle his face, "Are you alright, Izuna? What was he doing to you?"

Izuna is too horrified to answer. Five feet away, Hashirama has his arms around his fallen brother. He's pleading with his brother, Izuna can hear him beg, but Tobirama's voice is too faint to make out. There's so much blood. Izuna stares until the last few wisps of Tobirama's chakra fade away entirely.

"Brother," says Izuna, voice shaken, choking. "What have you done?"

Hashirama is still begging on his knees. Izuna rises to his feet, (noting that his injury has become merely a sluggishly bleeding twinge) and drags Madara with him. More Senju and Uchiha have converged in their location in the meantime, and Izuna makes the sign for 'Retreat immediately!' at his clan. Then he runs, tugging Madara behind him.

Senju Tobirama was dead, killed by Madara's own hand. Izuna does not know what price their clan will pay when the Senju return for their vengeance.

He will not let it be his brother's life.

 

* * *

 

When the Senju and Uchiha clashed, Hashirama and Madara only fought each other. It worked well, because none of the others could match their skills, and the death count should they turn their attentions to the others would be catastrophic.

He and Madara would never _really_ hurt each other, of this he was certain. For all that Madara turned his back on him so many years ago, on that river bank, his blades have never approached Hashirama with the intent to kill. Their battles are a dance, a delaying. They fight in the hope that one day they won’t have to take up arms against each other at all.

It was familiar now. If their people were not dying around them and this was just the two of them, Hashirama would even call it fun.

Everything goes well until a younger Uchiha stumbles towards them and cries, "Madara! Tobirama stabbed Izuna, then vanished with him!" Both Hashirama and Madara freeze. As one they turn to where their brothers had been fighting only minutes before. A pause and a bit of concentration lets Hashirama find the distinctive threads of his brother's chakra. He's sprinting towards it before he realizes that Madara is doing the same.

They find Tobirama performing a strange jutsu on a downed Izuna, lying flat against the ground. Tobirama's sword lies by his side, bloodied to the hilt. ' _No!_ ' Hashirama has time to think, because if Izuna is dead Madara will never see reason. In his shock, he's not fast enough to stop Madara, something that will haunt him until he dies. Because Madara screams, an enraged, wordless sound, and then he's swung his gunbai at Tobirama, tossing him aside like a broken doll. Hashirama stumbles, hands outstretched uselessly, because his brother lies crumpled on the ground.

Hashirama falls beside Tobirama, pulls him into his arms, and Tobirama's eyes are pained. He brings a hand to Hashirama's face, those long, slender fingers cupping his cheek. "Forgive me, brother. Wanted t' keep you safe," he says.

"No no no, please. GET ME A HEALER!" he yells to the others, but he knows there's no use, he can feel Tobirama slipping away already. "Please, brother, please, please don't leave me…" Hashirama doesn't understand the words pouring from his own mouth. His brother is dying in his arms, and this was never supposed to happen. "Hashirama," says Tobirama, and there's something else in his eyes, desperation, love. Fear. "Stop the war," he says. "L'me be the last one. Please." Tobirama's voice is broken, breaths shallow as blood begins to dribble from his mouth. "Tell ‘zuna… owes me."

"No, Tobi, please."

"Love…you," says his baby brother, and says no more. He's still breathing, takes one laborious breath after another, and Hashirama presses his forehead to his brother's. "I love you, Tobi, stay, please. Please. Oh please, god." The blood red eyes flutter closed and do not open again. Hashirama kneels on a battlefield and feels the exact moment that his brother's chakra fades away entirely, and something deep in him dies too.

 

* * *

 

There is a strange atmosphere in the Uchiha compound, that day.

There's some satisfaction, some joy. The white-haired Senju demon had been slayed at last, which is great reason to celebrate. There's also fear, because now Hashirama's anger would fall upon them like the wrath of the gods. It made the celebrators decidedly half-hearted, as thoughts of imminent death were wont to do.

Hikaku watches the other Uchiha from Izuna's window, trying to make sense of what his cousin has just told them. Madara and Izuna are silent as well.

They were so close, Hikaku realizes, to not having his cousin with them at all. To bringing back Izuna's corpse and a Madara crazed with grief.

It's incomprehensible. For all that Hikaku is hailed as a genius, the third strongest member of the clan at only eighteen years of age, he can make no sense of the day's events.

Senju Tobirama had fatally wounded Izuna. Hikaku had seen this with his own eyes, how the Senju had vanished and reappeared behind Izuna, too quickly for Izuna to regain his footing. Then, apparently he had proceeded to save his life. And then Madara had killed him.

Three unbelievable events, in one day, in a span of time less than twenty minutes long.

"Why would he hurt you and then save you?" asks Madara, and his voice is broken and harsh. Hikaku flinches.

Izuna says, "He said he miscalculated. That he wanted me injured and unable to fight, but not dead."

It's hard for Hikaku to even believe that Tobirama was capable of making a miscalculation. But Izuna is certain, and he's so very rarely wrong about people. "Maybe it was to convince you to make the oath," Hikaku says, but Izuna just shakes his head.

"He was exhausted," he says. He looks up at Hikaku then, instead of Madara who is still staring at his own hands. "He was tired of watching people die. Even if it was me."

There's a long silence, all three of them lost in thought. 'I'm exhausted too, right?' wonders Hikaku. It's an odd feeling, one they usually cannot dare to entertain. To falter was to die and...hadn't Tobirama just proved that, actually?

"I killed Hashirama's baby brother," Madara says quietly. Izuna leans against him and rests his head on Madara's shoulder. Hikaku stares a moment longer out the window at Kagami, who is ordering the gossiping Uchiha back to their stations, then sits down on Madara's other side. They have never talked about this before, the odd friendship between Madara and Hashirama. It was taboo when Tajima was alive, and too uncomfortable after, when Madara had to lead his own family against his friend's.

"Do you think he'll try to kill you?" asks Izuna. Hikaku's fingers grasp Madara's shirt, and tighten. This is the man who took him in when the Senju killed his parents, he's not letting him go, god of shinobi or otherwise. "We won't let him kill you, alright?" Hikaku tells Madara.

Madara doesn’t answer either of them.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, a group of three Senju shinobi appear at the main gates of the outer wall of the clan lands. They hand over two scrolls, addressed to Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Izuna, and then vanish back into the trees.

The air within the clan-grounds is tense as they wait to hear what the Senju had to say to their clan head and his brother. Would they demand compensation? Would this bring their battles back to the bloodiest of all the clan wars as it had been back in Tajima and Butsuma's time?

Hikaku doesn't let Madara or Izuna open the scrolls. Even though they both appear absolutely harmless to his Sharingan, he insists. Eventually Setsuna, who's skilled at seals and traps opens it for them, with two pairs of Mangekyou and one pair of Sharingan watching closely as he does.

The scrolls themselves turn out to be harmless.

Their content is not so benign.

"The Senju are insane!" hisses Izuna, before tossing his letter to Hikaku. Hikaku skims through it quickly once, then again, a second time, in slower disbelief. "Are they joking? This has to be a trap, right?" Although the outside of the scroll had been addressed to Izuna, the letter inside is a formal request for a ceasefire, and an invitation to meet on neutral territory to discuss a permanent peace treaty.

Madara is staring at his own letter. Hikaku follows Izuna's example and looks over his cousin's shoulder.

 

_Madara,_

_I hoped, for the longest time that one day you would realize that choosing the path of peace with me would be best for your family, and their safety. That together we could protect both our clans, instead of being the biggest reason for their deaths. I called you my closest friend. I called you brother, because when we dreamed together I felt like you and I would really fight for that peace. I trusted you, Madara._

_Clearly, I have been deluding myself for years, and you had no intention of helping me build that village for our people._

_Before he died, Tobirama made one request, and that's the only reason I am speaking to you now. He asked me to make sure that he was the last person to die, the last one slain by this disgusting war. He wanted peace._

_I will keep my word to my brother. You owe me your alliance now Madara. I have lost everything I have, and have nothing left to lose because you and your family have taken everything from me. Surely this is reason enough for your people to put aside your own grievances against my clan? My own clansmen are ready, at long last, for peace. Yours must be too._

_And if you still feel you owe me nothing, that we were just children making up day dreams, then you still owe Tobirama. He gave your brother back to you, and if he hadn't, both of us would be mourning today. Izuna owes Tobirama this much. Accept the temporary ceasefire. Bring some of your shinobi to discuss terms for starting a permanent village. My brother is right. Enough is enough._

_Hashirama._

 

The handwriting on the page is stilted, like it was written by a trembling hand. "He's serious, isn't he? He really wants to end this war because his brother asked him to. This isn't going to be a trap," Hikaku says. Madara looks dazed.

"The elders would never agree. They've never agreed before. They'll want us to take advantage of the ceasefire and wipe them out," says Madara. He looks... well honestly, he looks like he's about to cry.

Izuna has been silent for a while. He reaches out to Hikaku. "Hand me that scroll. Your job, Hikaku is to tell everyone about the ceasefire and peace. Convince them it's what we need- take Kagami with you, he's good at that sort of thing. Brother will sit down and draft out a rough version of the terms we'll be expecting the Senju to accept. Obviously, the elders will want a say in that, but get anything really important down before they have a go at it," he says. Izuna rolls up the scroll and looks up, "I'm going to go convince those old windbags that it's time they take you seriously."

“But Izuna you don’t-” Madara takes a steadying breath, “You’ve never wanted this before. You called me a fool whenever I brought it up.”

Hikaku watches as Izuna’s lips thin into a flat line. He knows from experience that Izuna is choosing his next words carefully. “We’re exhausted too, right? Of this war. If there’s a real chance that this could work, if Tobirama Senju thought it was possible...” he trails off. Hikaku gets what he means. Although Madara and Hashirama were brilliant leaders, practicality was not their strong suit. Just before he walks out of the door, Izuna adds, “And, he’s right, I guess I do kind of owe him.”

                                                                          

* * *

 

Hashirama doesn’t move from his spot for hours. The sun had set, and stars had started to appear. The moon is bright enough that Hashirama can still see his brother's face. There are others crying, he thinks, but he cannot be bothered to check. Someone had brought a litter, and tried to take Tobirama away from him. No one tried again. The first voice to penetrate the haze of 'What have I done, why did you go, please come back…' is Toka's. "Hashirama, we need to take him back. Mito has started the funeral preparations."

But Hashirama is not going to move.  "We'll bury him here, Toka. We're not taking him home," he says.

"Hashirama be reasonable, we need to bury him in the family plot, with everyone else, you can't just leave him here alone!" she says, and its choked and furious. "I won't _let_ you." He finally turns to look at her, her face is blotchy and her eyes are red. Others love Tobirama too, Hashirama remembers. He had forgotten.

If anyone deserves an explanation, it's Toka, but Hashirama can't make the words yet. Can't tell her that all his life he has buried people in the Senju cemetery, his mother, his brothers, his father. And always, there's someone else, someone next. Space for the next grave already marked out and waiting for the casualty.

Never again.

Tobirama wanted to be the last one. The last death in this horrible, generations long feud, and so Hashirama will bury him here, here where his brother had _asked._ For the first time, asking for something from Hashirama instead of giving, giving as always. "We will bury him _here,_ Toka," he tells her again helplessly.

He looks down at Tobirama's face. He doesn’t look peaceful at long last, doesn't look like he's sleeping. Tobirama looks dead. Hashirama wants _to rage_. He takes the swirling chakra that is crushing his chest, choking his throat, that stings behind his eyes that are exhausted from weeping and forces it into the ground.

The Earth rumbles in answer. He hears people stumble away, cries of alarm. Only Toka stands her ground. It is usually the easiest thing in the world for Hashirama to call trees up from the ground. These trees _ache in his bones._ They erupt from the ground, tall silver-white redwoods, just the shade of Tobirama's hair. There are twelve of them, in a ring around where his brother rests in his arms. Like sentinels that will guard him, just a little too late. He should've done this before. Just one tree, one shunshin- he hears Toka take a shuddering breath.

"Okay," she says. "Here is fine. I'll send for Mito."


	2. Once Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Building a village is hard, even when you have a moping mokuton user on your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who reviewed, or gave me kudos. Knowing you guys cared about this story made me able to put up this chapter, even though I was having quite a bit of trouble with it.

Getting the elders to agree to peace is easier than Izuna expected. They are under the severe misconception that killing Tobirama had settled once and for all which clan was stronger, and that the Senju had deemed it time to cut their losses. Izuna doesn’t care _what_ they think as long as they stop impeding Madara’s efforts and let him get on with it. His brother has enough on his plate right now.

_Uchiha_

Mito has never seen her husband as _small_ as he looks when he’s sitting cross legged by Tobirama’s simple earthen grave. There’s no headstone, yet; Toka’s sudden missive that Hashirama would bury his brother right where he had fallen had given her only enough time to prepare a simple coffin and flowers. She had been more distracted setting up a guard rotation for the people staying behind, and organizing supplies for those still with Hashirama. His hand is in hers, and she holds on. Mito is a practical woman, and there is nothing else she can do. For now.

_Senju_

Hikaku hears Toshi say, “Well, I know what I’m going to do once we reach those brutes, I’ve got poisoned senbon with their names practically written on them. That’s probably what Madara-sama is planning, just wait! Peace? Ha! You’ll see.” Toshi had lost her parents even before he had, and has never truly recovered. Have any of them recovered, really? She looks so gleeful at the prospect of bloody vengeance. He doesn’t even know where to start, besides, ‘ _That’s really, really not it, Toshi._ ’

_Uchiha_

They are fortunate that Tobirama’s grave lies just slightly less than a day’s walk from Senju grounds. Any longer, and Hashirama probably could not make the journey home. He’s immeasurably grateful that Mito is with him. He has never felt so weary in his life. So much work has to be done… He takes one more laborious step forward. For the first time in his life, Tobirama is not at his shoulder.

_Senju_

Izuna keeps giving him worried glances, but Madara is fine. Everything is running smoothly, which is a miracle. A scroll agreeing to the cease-fire, and asking for further details about the meeting to begin discussions for the peace treaty has been sent. The elders have been satisfied somehow, and Madara doesn’t care for the details. Most of the Uchiha are finally ready for peace.

Madara had often imagined this moment, as a child. Somehow, he’d always expected to feel happier.

_Uchiha_

Toka storms out of the room when Hashirama finally explains what he plans to do. He turns to Mito helplessly. She places a hand on his head, strokes his long messy hair as she says, “You’re doing the right thing, Hashirama. You know that.” She will deal with Toka.

_Senju_

It’s when Hikaku is reviewing the guard rotation for the party that’s travelling to the Nakano that it finally hits him. Their people are at _peace_. Sure, it’s only with the Senju, but few of the other clans had been strong enough to engage either of them _before_ the alliance. Not one would dare now. “ _Peace_ ,” he says out loud, just to see if it feels more real when he does. This odd fluttering feeling must be _hope_.

_Uchiha_

Toka kisses Tobirama’s cold fingers once, before they finally lay him to rest. The preservation seals they carefully drew over his body, and the new clothes Mito has brought do not entirely hide that he’d been _nearly cut in half_ by the crazed Uchiha clan-head. The gunbai he’d used, that every previous Uchiha clan head has used, should actually be around here somewhere. Toka will drive it through that bastard’s skull.

_Senju_

The neutral ground they’ve agreed upon is a valley of the Nakano river (It’s nowhere near the place that Izuna had led their father to, all those years ago, though, and Izuna is immeasurably grateful for that). His brother has amassed a wealth of carefully researched notes on peace treaties, the oldest of which are written in his child-like handwriting from years ago. They pore over them together, framing terms for a peace that, now, Izuna can believe in, too.

_Uchiha_

Toka is furious with him, and Hashirama has no defense, except, “Tobirama asked me to, Toka. For his memory, if you cannot agree with me.”  
He remembers another brother he’d laid to rest, one who had asked, “ _…but then who will take revenge for all the loved ones we've lost? They'd roll in their graves if we just let bygones be bygones._ ” He wonders if Itama hates the path he has chosen to follow.

_Senju_

For something that only one man had had the vision and audacious faith to believe was possible, the talks go surprisingly smoothly.

Sure, the Uchiha demand that the secrets of the Sharingan remain a clan secret (with associated crimes falling under the jurisdiction of clan law), and the Senju do not back down on having a common education system for the children of both clans, and any who may join in the future.

A minor scuffle almost breaks out during the discussion on which clan to next invite to join their village, and on the third night there’s a little chaos when an Uchiha two-man patrol finds four Senju children (all less than seven years old) attempting to sneak onto the camp to check up on their families.

After seven days, a peace treaty is hammered out that both sides would be willing to follow (even if some clauses they would only ever obey begrudgingly), and committees have been formed to begin the actual work of organizing and building a village, and writing out a constitution according to the terms that had been decided on.

Not one drop of blood has been shed in the meantime. It’s finally enough. They will begin anew, like shootlets rising from the earth.

Their new village needs a name, and they have found one. They will be the village hidden in the leaves.

_Konohagakure_

 

Mito had found Toka dragging Madara’s bloody gunbai back to the Senju compound three days before the peace meeting, in the dead of night. She had intercepted Toka well outside, before anyone could panic at the sight of her with the cursed weapon and the warlike chakra she was emitting.

Toka stopped the moment she noticed her, and Mito could see her tense in readiness for a fight, even in the darkness.

“Wait, cousin,” she had said.

“Get out of my way, Mito.”

Mito had pretended to listen. She stepped out of the way until Toka was close enough for her to see the freezing expression on Toka’s pale aristocratic face. Then she put out an arm to block the way.

“Give me the gunbai, and then you may go,” she’d said.

“Do not try me right now, Mito, I haven't the patience.”

“Do you think that killing Madara will bring you peace? Do not act a fool, Toka. We are so close to finally achieving true peace and I cannot allow you to ruin it. Give me the gunbai, I will deal with it.”

“It wasn’t your brother who died, Mito. Get out of my way!”

“Tobirama wasn’t your brother either,” Mito said softly. She had only a split second to dodge as Toka’s painted nails reached straight for her throat with incredible accuracy, and then Toka fought her in earnest.

It could easily have been deadly, the two most powerful kunoichi of the Senju, literally at each other’s throats but Toka was angry and upset. Mito had her disabled and harmless in less than two minutes.

“Let me _go_ ,” Toka had hissed. Mito calmly tightened her hold on the agitated woman.

“I will if you promise to listen.” Before Toka can interrupt, she continued, “You owe me a favor, Toka. I would like you to repay it now.”

Toka froze in Mito’s grasp and Mito could feel the tense, coiled anger. “You would call in that favor now, to have me dishonor my family by letting the madman who killed Tobirama _get away with it_?” she was yelling by the time she finished.

“I want you to listen to me when I speak, and then you may do what you like,” Mito countered. “I am not cruel enough to bind you unwillingly with that promise.”

Toka shrugged off her hold, and Mito had let her. She turned around to look Mito in the eyes. Mito could see that she hadn’t yet been forgiven for her previous words. Toka didn’t say anything further, though, so Mito assumed she would, at the least, listen to what she had to say.

“I want a child.” She could almost feel Toka’s disdain.

“No, listen to me. I want to have _children_ , Toka. And if Tobirama was alive I would not be afraid. What fool would dare touch my child then, a child with Hashirama’s and Tobirama’s protection? I don’t have that assurance anymore. If you should go and prolong this war, by slaying the clan head who has offered to meet us in good faith, then I will still have my children. And the Senju will train them up for war, and send them into battle like sacrifices to a mad god who will spit out their bones, and if my children die just because you wanted revenge, Toka? Just because you don’t know when it is time to lay down your weapons then I’ll…” Mito trailed off. She hadn’t known what she would do if she was crazed with grief, not even to Toka, one of her dearest friends. It wasn’t a threat, not really. It was a desperate plea. She willed the stubborn Senju in front of her to _understand_.

Toka had stood statue-still before her for innumerable heartbeats. Through several long, slow, steadying breaths. Finally, finally her pale fingers released the handle of the gunbai. Before Mito could feel relieved, Toka had clasped it again, tightly, raising the huge weapon slightly off the ground.

“You said you would deal with it?”

Mito gave her a closed-lip smile that she could feel sat wrongly on her face. It stretched uneasily across her clenched teeth and stressed the inside of her cheek unpleasantly.

“I will. I promise,” she vowed. Toka looked searchingly into her eyes before she turned and walked away soundlessly.

The gunbai stood accusingly at Mito’s feet.

 

Now, there is no trace of fury on Toka’s face as she glances at Izuna and Madara. If anything, she looks faintly disgusted, and Mito can see that both Uchiha find this unsettling.

It has been two weeks since the surveyance team had submitted a proposal for the village’s location and boundaries that everyone found satisfying, and work is underway trying to create a plan for everything else. While the general locations of the administrative buildings, marketplace, and training grounds have already been decided on, it’s finally time to come up with the exact locations so that work can finally begin.

It’s…honestly not going too well. In an effort to finally get things back on track, Hashirama, Mito, and Toka have been meeting with the Uchiha clan head, his brother, and his cousin alone. Hopefully it will lack the posturing and petty squabbling that’s been delaying the work of their extended family members, and they can get things worked out.

The meetings are in Hashirama’s room, at the temporary headquarters he had built with Mokuton at the base of the cliffs that overlook Konohagakure. This is where they’ve been for three days, and they’re not even close to finishing.

Izuna, seated directly across from Mito, looks rather uncomfortable- glancing warily at both Toka and Hashirama at intervals. As they go over the plans, Mito has found that she and Hikaku do most of the actual communicating. Toka and Izuna will pitch in, but never address the opposing side directly. Hashirama is a little distracted, but he does interrupt them if he has something he thinks is important. The only person who doesn’t speak at all is Madara, who scrawls little notes to Izuna every once in a while. Mito hopes those are real ideas and not childish ‘ _can we go home yet_ ’ notes.

The work is slow going. It’s hard to admit it, but by far the person with the greatest talent for this sort of thing was Tobirama. Everytime they have to undo an hour’s work because the six of them have overlooked something, every time a messenger arrives with more specific demands from someone or the other, she feels his absence keenly. Not as her brother-in-law, ( _that_ she feels every moment of the day) but as the only man who could have finished this work in an evening and then gone on a mission to pass the time.

Around mid afternoon, she feels Hashirama’s chakra suddenly rise. She looks up from the papers she’s consulting to see him staring at Madara’s face. Madara, who is looking over her shoulder towards- she twists quickly to see what’s behind her- only to see nothing. She turns back to the Uchiha. He’s pale, unnaturally pale, and he finally chokes out, “I don’t…I thought...” His Sharingan flares to life, and Izuna’s and Hikaku’s follow suit. Toka wrenches Hashirama nearer the window and against the wall so that whatever this unseen thing is, it can’t attack them from behind. Mito slides towards the opposite wall so she can see everyone in the room.

The younger Uchiha look perplexed. Their red, glowing eyes scan the room searchingly, but Madara’s are fixed at point three feet in front of the door.

“Brother,” says Izuna finally. “Brother there’s nothing there.” He has an arm on Madara’s shoulder, ready to restrain him if necessary. Madara doesn’t seem to notice. There are beads of sweat forming on his brow, and his eyes look manic even beyond the blood red eyes, with black spots spinning away. The man is terrified.

“You’re here, what are you doing here? I don’t- _KAI_!” he cries. As though whatever he is seeing could only be a cruel genjutsu. “KAI!” Evidently whatever it was hadn’t vanished, because he shrinks in on himself, hands up defensively. Izuna steps protectively in front of him despite having no clue what’s going on.

“Do you have any powerful sensors?” Hikaku asks, looking at Mito in fright. Toka gives a wordless snarl in answer, and he flinches when he sees the look in her eyes.

Not anymore, they didn’t, thought Mito grimly.

 

* * *

 

Tobirama’s time in the afterlife was not going well.

He had had _plans_. It had taken him nearly a year just to choose the most opportune time period to return to, and all the changes he would have to make to ensure that Konoha did not fall into the same pitfalls that it had the first time.

He had decided that he should save Izuna. Saving Kawarama and Itama had not seemed ideal, no matter how much he wished he could. Tobirama himself would be left too young and not in control of his own abilities should he travel that far back, and, loathe as he was to admit it, they might have all been doomed anyway as the friendship between his brother and Madara might not have ever occurred without that tragic catalyst. Their first common ground.

He had put a lot of thought into this decision.

Saving Izuna had seemed ideal because it would keep Madara from going over the deep edge of his own sanity, and allow them to turn their attentions to the outside threats facing their young village earlier than he had been able to the first time. This meant that they would be in a better position to obliterate their enemies before they grew particularly powerful.

That was what he had planned, at least. Designing and testing the jutsu had taken him several more months, working entirely in secret, spending his days as Hokage of a village that seemed to be unravelling before his eyes.

He had wanted to do it again.

He had wanted to do it _better_.

(He had irrevocably failed)

He wasn’t sure _what_ had happened; he had meant to return to the morning of that fight between the Senju and Uchiha, where he’d used the Hiraishin to finally best and kill Izuna and unknowingly precipitated many of the tragic events that would follow.

Instead, he had reappeared to see his sword through the Uchiha’s side, his eyes dark with hate-

He had tried to improvise, but whatever the source of the error was, it had placed him at a particularly awkward point (even ten seconds earlier, and he could have turned his sword harmlessly away…). Tobirama would also confess that he had been just a little confused and panicked. A six-hour long jutsu that had taxed even his considerable mental acuity to the furthest (after more than a year of planning) and he had been too invested to think clearly at the sudden shock. Had worked too hard for too long to save Uchiha Izuna’s life for it to be lost due to a _calculation error_.

Had he been thinking clearly, he would have let the events of the day play out exactly the same, then used the jutsu again to return to the correct time. Or maybe he would have done the same thing, but kept his wits about him and _not gotten himself pointlessly killed by the blockheaded Uchiha Madara_.

Hashirama's face- Tobirama sharply puts the thought out of his mind. He could never bear Hashirama's pain, would give anything to alleviate it, and this time it was his own thoughtlessness that had caused the grief he'd been forced to witness.

If Tobirama had not just died ignobly ten minutes into his own attempt to save the world, he would have _killed himself_ for his own stupidity.

 

Tobirama takes to wandering aimlessly through the fledgling village, sitting in on meetings of the clan elders, and generally following his brother around at odd times.

He has never been a man for sleeping, ascribing to the ‘you can sleep when you’re dead’ school of thought, but since his death he has found that he is incapable of doing so. This leaves him with more hours of leisure than he has ever experienced in his entire life.

Tobirama _despises_ it.

He is forced to spend each day watching the shinobi entrusted with building his village churn out mediocre work or worse, and the level of ineptitude he witnesses might have given him an aneurysm if he had still been alive.

To give Hashirama credit, the peace talks have been completed nearly a year earlier than they had been the first time, and they all seem to be trying very hard to get on to the next stage. But organizing, planning, and micromanaging is what Tobirama _does_. He can see that they are floundering without him.

He overhears Toka saying this to Mito over lunch, one day, which makes him curious. He decides to drop by their meeting place after he finishes watching the fencing crew put up the eastern gate. He has an odd feeling that they’ve not taken in enough land on that side of the village perimeter…

It has been months since his death, and Tobirama is more or less used to being an invisible, incorporeal creature bearing witness to his brother’s life and the village he had once been Hokage of.

He is therefore caught entirely off guard when Uchiha Madara looks him straight in the eye, when he walks in on his brother’s meeting. The Uchiha looks like he’s seen a ghost- and the thought makes Tobirama smile. The Uchiha turns an unflattering white. His brother tenses.

“I don’t…I _thought_...” mutters Madara, activating his Sharingan. The minor scene he is causing frightens the other Uchiha who seek him desperately, Toka and Mito withdraw fluidly from the invisible threat.

Izuna reasons with the frozen man, “Brother there’s nothing there.” Of course Tobirama is actually right here, so Madara isn’t convinced.

The fool blubbers, “You’re here, what are you doing here? I don’t- _KAI_!” and Tobirama is not a genjutsu, he’s not even really there so he just stares coolly at the other man. “KAI!” Madara yells again, and Tobiram gives him a withering look. “This is not a genjutsu, you idiot. Be silent!” Apparently Madara can hear him as well, because he ceases the witless jabbering, and puts his arms up defensively.

“Do you have any powerful sensors?” asks Uchiha Hikaku, clearly worried, and Tobirama rolls his eyes. He’s been freer with his expressions since his death, he thinks, because Madara’s eyes widen at this almost comically.

“Cease this shameful behavior, you’re worrying everyone. I will leave you now,” Tobirama tells him, and Madara makes a soft, small noise, but doesn’t protest.

Tobirama leaves through the closed door, just as he entered, his mind whirring with purpose again after weeks of forced powerlessness to help anyone.

Madara could see and hear him.

The scientist in him (or if he’s being brutally honest, the curious feline part of his mind) wants desperately to know why Madara iss the only person able to do so.

The older, more practical part of his mind quashes it ruthlessly. If the man who killed him was the only one who could communicate with him, so be it. Tobirama knows how to improvise, and he finally sees a way to salvage his broken dream. Perhaps it is divine irony, that he must use the man who rendered him incapable of restoring his village, to do his work for him.

Tobirama does not particularly care.

He still has work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please do review, I would love to hear your opinions. 
> 
> And, an apology to reviewers whose reviews I am only responding to today, even though you reviewed weeks ago! I told myself I could only respond (which I really love doing) if I put up a new chapter. Its one of the things that motivated me to get on with writing this chapter...thank you so much!


	3. Leave A Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the really long delay. The excuse that real life was terrible is quite a terrible excuse but unfortunately, it does happen.

Izuna's mangekyo spins wildly as he and Hikaku drag their clan head towards the relative safety of their clan's temporary quarters. The small cluster of buildings that currently serves as a home for the Uchiha who must be present at the site of the village every day is hardly any real defence (unlike the real clan lands, with their carefully warded perimeters) and Izuna itches to take Madara all the way there- but first he needs to know _what_ it was his brother had seen.

They head directly for Hikaku's place rather than Brother's or his own because it is the most heavily protected. Madara still looks terribly pale- as though he'd seen a ghost. He hasn't said a word since they had made their hasty apologies and left the planning tent with three very confused Senju behind.

"Explain," demands Izuna, once Hikaku has shut the doors and activated the privacy seals. "There was nothing there, and it couldn't have been a genjutsu. Even Senju Toka isn't strong enough to fool a Sharingan." And she was easily their best at that particular skill.

Madara doesn't answer, just sits down wearily on Hikaku's open bedroll. "It was a person, wasn't it?" Asks Izuna. He'd heard Madara say 'you' and so it had to be a person. Possibly even someone they knew. Madara takes a moment, but he does eventually nod. He no longer looks so shaken, and Izuna can see his brother coming back to himself as he tries to work out what it could have been, instead of the shock the vision had clearly given him.

"It frightened you," Hikaku says. Izuna turns to his cousin, who looks almost as scared as Madara had been, staring at that empty doorway. Madara must notice it too, because he says quietly, "Come here," and beckons Hikaku to sit down with him. "You're both sure you didn't see anything at all?"

"There wasn't anything there. Nothing visible and no chakra that we could detect," confirms Izuna.

"I suppose I didn't sense his chakra, either," he says. "I definitely did see him though." He pauses, "Do you think it was a hallucination? Perhaps I should speak to Elder Shido, she would probably understand-"

" _Who did you see?_ " interrupts Hikaku voice rising in both pitch and volume, "you were absolutely terrified! I have never seen you look that way before, not even at Hashirama, so who was it?"

"It was Senju Tobirama. I saw him walk into the room," says Madara quietly.

There's silence, because what can Izuna possibly say to that?

His brother looks up and meets Izuna's eyes and he can see that Madara is telling the truth. Madara truly believes that he had seen the late Senju. The one he'd killed _himself._ There was absolutely no doubt of that-and oh gods-is this...guilt? A glance at Hikaku shows that his cousin, at least, is thinking along the same lines as Izuna. If the guilt of killing a repentant Tobirama was _cracking their clan head's mind_ then they were all doomed.

 "You think I imagined it don't you?" Asks Madara and its sharp, a little wary.

 "You do feel guilty for what happened," Izuna offers.

 "Could you have?" Asks Hikaku, and there's a bit of hope in his voice.

 "Maybe?" says Madara, after a while. "I mean, I do truly regret that Konoha lost him. Despite his numerous shortcomings, he was a remarkably efficient Shinobi, and we could have used him well, I guess?"

 Izuna can see through what he means though, and he voices what Madara will not, "And also if he came back to life, Hashirama would forgive you and speak to you again."

 Madara's non-answer is answer enough.

 Izuna leans backward against the thin wooden wall. There have been moments recently when he, too, has found himself wishing that the Senju had lived. It's almost ridiculous. Izuna remembers quite clearly a time when he could not have mustered an ounce of regret for Tobirama's death under any circumstance, let alone in a battle against the Uchiha. He would have celebrated it, even.

 But that was not the man he had watched die. The Tobirama who died had just offered to swear on his brother's life (and Izuna, more than anyone else understood the phrasing of that particular vow) never to kill one of Izuna's clansmen. Izuna had laughed in his face but somehow-somehow he'd meant it. Tobirama had called him an ungrateful brat with a twist to his lips that on anyone else could have been fondness. More than anything else he is curious what could have happened if the man had survived.

 Izuna has been raised not to believe in what-ifs and maybes though; that is why Madara was the visionary who brought the Uchiha peace while Izuna was just a soldier all his life. So he says, "Don't speak to Elder Shido unless you see any other dead people, yet. And don't breathe a word about this to anyone but the three of us ever again. Alright?"

His brother nods, and thank goodness, he looks mostly himself again. He says "If you could research genjutsus, or even seals that can cause someone to see apparitions, Hikaku... it would be best not to ignore it in the off chance that it was an attempt at sabotage."

That's fair enough, it _wouldn't_ do for them to overlook an attack like that, even if Izuna thinks it's extremely unlikely. If it makes Madara feel better, they can definitely spare someone to research that. So when Hikaku sends him a discreet questioning look, Izuna nods firmly. "That's a good idea. But Hikaku, be careful you don't give anything away. The apparition's identity will remain between us. It must."

 

* * *

Hashirama is pacing in his room when the door slides open and Mito looks in. "Toka has just left to meet with the Sarutobi clan, Hashirama," she says. He nods in acknowledgement. It's not news; the trip had only been planned after several letters had been exchanged and the details of Toka's party had been hammered out a few days ago in preparation.

Her trip is not what is worrying him. The Sarutobi have often been Senju allies, not quite as friendly as the Uzumaki, but never nearly as adversarial as the Uchiha. Things should go smoothly for Toka.

No, what has him worried and twisted is Madara. His _face_ earlier today, when he had been staring at the door... the expression has been haunting him all day. Beyond the obvious fear, that it might have been a malevolent and deliberate attack on Madara that they were unable to detect (several shinobi had combed the entirety of the building for seals and residual chakra, but no one had found anything), was something that troubled Hashirama even more.

He was... _conflicted_ about Madara, although that word does little to express the depth of Hashirama's uncertainty. He once loved Madara like a brother. He had felt a deep connection with Madara, a certainty that this man’s soul matched his own. Had he been wrong then, or was his current attempt to slice the other man out of his life the real mistake? For someone who has always preached forgiveness and moving on, he has turned into a hypocrite unable to look past the death of his little brother.

He has tried, a little. At first, seeing Madara right after the treaty had been signed had been physically painful. He would see Madara's hands resting on a table and remember them curled around his Gunbai. Hearing Madara raise his voice would set him on edge. Once when Madara was trying to hail the shinobi who were keeping watch from the cliffs above, he had raised his voice. Hashirama had flinched and brought his chakra up defensively. Izuna and Hikaku had stepped between him and Madara almost instantaneously...but he had seen Madara's face before it was hidden from him.

Shock. Even after everything, Madara had been horrified to incite the same reaction as an enemy would, in Hashirama. And grief. There had been grief in his expression. He hasn't said a single word to him since. Madara rarely speaks at all in Hashirama's presence, and never loudly or to Hashirama directly. He keeps his head low, and he always looks...careful. Wary.

It only makes Hashirama feel worse. Not only had he failed Tobirama entirely by not stepping between him and Madara, his guilt over his brother's death has spilled over onto Madara. He was hurting their dream of a shared village by his inability to just let it go.

He's walked across his room pointlessly several more times before he notices that Mito is still here. "Is there something that you needed?"

"I wanted your permission for something, but it can wait if you're busy," she says. That effectively derails Hashirama's thoughts, because his wife has _never_ asked him for 'permission' before. Mito is much like Tobirama was in that they both occasionally deigned to inform him of their plans before they were executed, but usually he would just get a very compact and neat mission summary afterwards, with his smug family member sitting across the dinner table from him.

"Is it clan business? Or about the village? If it's about the village we'd have to talk to the Uchiha tomorrow, too."

"It's about both," says Mito, and she begins to outline her plan.

* * *

Madara pretends that he doesn’t notice the extra eyes following him around but he is well aware that Izuna has doubled his guards. It probably won't help at all should Tobirama-or anyone else that Madara has killed- choose to reappear, but Madara appreciates the gesture for what it is and doesn’t call him out. It is mildly unnerving, though, and he retires early. A warning glance at Izuna makes his brother shut his mouth before he can offer to accompany him to his room as well.

Sleep still eludes him that night. He's at his desk, reading mission statements from the Uchiha shinobi. Until a centralized command for missions can be set up, the two clans are working separately. But while this may work for two large and highly skilled clans, if any smaller clans join up then it won't be so easy to split the work fairly. The immediate, visceral fear he had felt on being confronted by Tobirama is long gone, but Madara's mind still turns the incident over and over, trying to make sense of it. It's going nowhere, if only because of the sheer volume of reports he's simultaneously reading through and signing off on.

There's just so much to do.

A voice clears its throat, and Madara looks up sharply because he hadn't heard anyone enter. His Mangekyou comes alive instantly and his kunai are in his hands before he recognizes the intruder which halts him for a fraction of a moment.

Tobirama is leaning against the far wall.

"Hello, Uchiha," he says. Madara can't help himself, he reacts by tossing two kunai, one through Tobirama's left eye, and one to the neck.

Tobirama blinks. The kunai clatter against the wall. Tobirama didn't have to move an inch. "Well that's hardly an appropriate welcome. It was your tendency to kill first and ask questions later that led to this mess in the first place," he says.

If Madara still had any doubt that this could be an impostor, that settles it. He has never met a man who could be quite as condescending as Tobirama with nothing but tone of voice and a single raised eyebrow. Not that that in any way explained _what the hell was going on,_ so Madara remains in a wary defensive stance. If Tobirama-the thing that looked like him, at least- had fought like Tobirama, Madara could have taken him down with a little effort. Instead, the thing is incorporeal, and Madara plots escape routes in his head. He can't fight an unknown enemy at such close-quarters with no idea what might happen.

But the apparition makes no move to attack. Finally, heart still pounding from the adrenaline rush he hasn't used to flee, Madara blusters, "Explain. What the hell are you. You're dead."

"I know that." The vision rolls its eyes and Madara's certainty wavers. Senju Tobirama does not roll his eyes like a child. Did not. Probably. Madara will never know because Hashirama won't speak a single word to him.

"Are you a ghost?"

"I don't know. I never believed in ghosts before. Too difficult to verify."

"Me neither," admits Madara. "And yet here you are."

"Here I am," agrees Tobirama.  "You should sit down."

"You should explain before I lose my temper," he shoots back. Madara is not sure he can do the man-ghost-vision any damage, but by god he is willing to try if given reason. Better him than the other Uchiha who can't even _see_ him.

"Very well. I don’t have much to say. After I died, I woke up in the woods. I was still dead though. I can't interact with matter, this just happens" he swipes an arm through the wooden wall behind him like it was made of water.

"And why are you here?"

Blood red eyes, as cold and calculating as they had been in life regard Madara carefully. “I am here, because you can see me.” The man straightens and walks towards Madara’s desk. Madara stiffens, but he doesn’t back away. “Not one other person can, I checked quite thoroughly. Imagine my surprise when this morning, you looked right at me.”

“I said _why_ Senju. It wasn’t curiosity that brought you here, you must have had a reason,” he says. It doesn’t look like it, but Madara does not profess to understand the mind of any Senju let alone this one, so he has to ask, “Did you want vengeance?”

“Don’t be absurd, Uchiha,” The man scoffs. He’s standing just across the desk from him now, his expression intent but not hostile. “I don’t mean you any harm. You killed me before I could help get this village up and running. Do you even know how much of a mess you and my brother are making? The tax proposals for the civilian villagers is woefully inadequate, you haven’t taken into account the expenses for the civilian schools. Even if they would probably have to be home-schooled in the beginning, it wouldn’t hurt to have a fund set up in preparation. Your road allowances are generous, but in the eastern quarter where the low-income apartments are going to be put in, that’s just a waste of space you…” Tobirama trails off, having just noticed the papers on Madara’s desk. “Please tell me you were going to turn down that assassination mission for the cinnamon merchant across the border, Brother signed off on a two-week protection detail for them three days ago.”

Madara is affronted. “Of course not! We do run the missions by each other first, we aren’t stupid! You will notice this form, like several others has not been signed off and is in a separate pile than the ones I will give to Hikaku tomorrow.” He glares at the other man before he admits, “We did consider the road widths, but we thought that if we chose to change that area’s zoning later it would be better with the wider roads.”

Tobirama was right about the taxes, but Madara wasn’t going to say that out loud. It’s not like they even had civilians yet, they could get to that when it became necessary. Instead, he asks, “You came back from the dead to tell me that I’m doing my paperwork wrong?” It’s unfortunate that this statement, which would be unthinkable if applied to anyone else, is only implausible when applied to the man before him.

“Among other things,” says Tobirama with a sharp nod. “I cannot tell Brother any of this, since he can’t see or hear me, but there is much that I have to say. I need you to tell him for me.”

Madara no longer feels like running from the room, but he is still uncertain. “Why should I even trust you? Izuna thinks that I’m hallucinating out of guilt. It doesn’t seem to be a genjutsu, but you weren’t the only genius shinobi out there, it’s possible that someone else managed to make something that works this way.”

Tobirama seems surprised. “Do you?” Something in Madara’s face must have shown his incomprehension because he elaborates, “Do you feel guilty for killing me?” Damn him, but the other man looks curious. Madara takes a moment to imagine what it would be like if this man truly was here. Less work, certainly, with another capable person to shoulder the burden, but also the absence of all the cutting glares he still gets from the other Senju.

It would mean that life would finally return to Hashirama. They had called him a god but he seemed mortal now, so brittle and tired. His old friend could stop flinching in his presence, and maybe…maybe he would offer his friendship to Madara again. And, Madara would like Tobirama alive just for the sake of having him alive, he thinks. To thank him, for saving Izuna. For changing the course of the war in one sudden, confusing action.

“Thank you for saving Izuna,” he blurts, because he can’t _not_ tell this man that, real or not. Can’t tell him that imagining Izuna dead on the grass is the only thing that disturbs him more than the memory of Tobirama’s blood staining his hands. “And I-

The door slams open, and Kagami looks inside. His eyes are wide, and he cries, “Lord Madara! Uzumaki Mito is heading for the compound, and she’s armed!”

 A distraction, Madara realizes with growing horror. And he'd fallen right for it. "Come!" he barks at Kagami, and sprints out the door. A few chakra assisted leaps have him clear of the encampment, and then he's free to run through the forest at top speed. He can hear Kagami behind him, both Ninja aiming for speed over silence.

He doesn't hear Tobirama follow because the Senju makes no sound at all. He doesn't hear, so he doesn't turn, and he doesn't see the fear or worry twisting the usually placid features.

It's just as well because Madara would have assumed that the worry was for the Senju's sister-in-law, and he would have only been half right. Tobirama was worried about all of them.

* * *

Mito can hear the Uchiha panic. No one dares to stop her or attack, but there are several of them in a loose formation around her, trying to figure out what she is doing. Madara's gunbai is in her hand, no doubt only adding to their confusion. She gets through the gates easily, perhaps they could not decide if they should stop her or not. She strides through the gates and walks until she reaches a courtyard, with enough space for all those gathered to stand.

Dropping the Gunbai to the ground, she sits on the edge of a non-functioning fountain, there. She looks at all of those assembled, and keeps her chin high as though she had invited them here. "Let's wait for Madara," she says, voice clear and loud. It's obvious, when you see the Uchiha that they are a single clan. They all have their signature spiky-dark hair, and there are as many pairs of black eyes as there are red glowing ones, all of them fixed on her. The Senju are more varied, but Mito herself is from another clan where everyone looked the same. She is almost used to this.

It is the unreal darkness of an early morning when she finally senses the roiling, angry chakra, more powerful than that which already surrounds her. Since her range is quite limited, it means the Uchiha she is waiting for will be here momentarily. She takes a breath in readiness.

They arrive out of order. First Izuna, then Madara. Another Uchiha she had become familiar with recently, Kagami, appears moments later. Then, Hikaku appears. They're breathing heavily enough that Mito knows they had pushed themselves to get here in the time that they had. No matter. She considers them, fully aware of all the eyes on her, still a stranger in their midst spite of all the work they had done together.

She sits for a moment longer, then rises to her full height, and meets Madara's eyes.

"Lord Madara, I bring a gift and a request from the Senju," she says.

Red eyes scrutinize her closely, but they must see no threat from her, now or in the immediate future because he inclines his head to her. "Very well, Lady Mito."

"The gift is the return of your weapon. You left it during the last battle between our clans. Our apologies for the delay in its return," she says, and she can almost feel the unease in the air, thick enough to choke on. There's not a soul here who doesn't know who the last victim had been. She forges on in the silence.

"Fifty-six Senju have died by this weapon. To my husband's clan, this gunbai means terror, loss, hatred, and anger. But that is not what it means to you, is it?" she asks. No one answers immediately but Mito waits them out. It isn't Madara as she expects, but Hikaku that speaks, "I've seen that weapon in my uncle's hand, and then my cousin's. It means they're here. We're safe." She's not sure if Hikaku knows what she's here for, but she is glad that he's playing along. Although her eyes do not leave the three highest ranking Uchiha before her, it is their clansmen, around her and behind, that she hopes to reach.

"Perhaps, in the future, my clansmen will come to see it that way also," she says.

She bows-lightly of course-and says "I thank you for your time." Before she can walk away, Madara says, "Thank you for returning my weapon, Lady Mito. But you mentioned a request as well."

"Of course, forgive me. When you pack up and leave these lands, and your ancestral homes to move into the village, please bring with you everything that you have. Bring your pride, your stories, your dreams. But do not bring your dead." For the first time, Mito turns to meet red eyes and black eyes from the crowd as well.

"I know...you must have loved them dearly. I know how much we did. But please lay them here to rest, before you move into Konohagakure. There is no other way this will work, and it must." It takes a greater effort than she thought it would, to keep her voice steady. "I do not think any of us could bear it otherwise."

This time no one stops her as she walks away. As she crosses the gate, two Uchiha land beside her. "Lord Madara asked that we escort you home," says one, when she questions their appearance. They return together, reaching the outlines of Konoha only after the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, as you can see, just wouldn't work out right. I posted it today only because I'm quite sick of the final bit with Mito which is really important to me but comes out like a wooden automaton with a stuck hinge had written it no matter how hard I try. If anyone can help me out for this section (and help me sort out future chapters as well, because I have like pieces floating around everywhere that I have completed, but getting the characters from A to B is just driving me nuts) I will be infinitely, extremely, grateful to you. Please do review, 
> 
> And to all the lovely commenters for previous chapters that I feel I've let down with this one, I'm sorry!


	4. Create a Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the incredibly delayed update guys. The delayed update was caused by real life, and by Hashirama and Madara, who for some reason did not want to make up with each other. This chapter was super hard to write, please read it and tell me how it goes. 
> 
> Also, my apologies to the truly BRILLIANT reviewers I have ignored, I'll try to reply to you guys tomorrow. Some of you have been absolutely gorgeous and offered amazing plot suggestions, and I will be getting back to you, your comments mean so much to me and are part of the reason why I continued this fic. So thank you very, very much!

Madara feels a little bit gutted. The fear and adrenaline that had him speeding back to the clan lands had had no outlet, and Mito's words merely sparked further unease. A mixture of grief, and hate, and guilt. It's so hard to accept that the Senju might be hurting when they have been the cause of so many Uchiha graves.

Don't bring your dead, she said. Madara would have scoffed but for the sincerity in Mito's expression. The Senju kunoichi was famous for her unflappable nature. Seeing her so shaken, visibly struggling for control made it clear that she knew exactly what she was asking for. She walks away, and Madara looks back over his assembled clan. His family. The living ones that he can take with him, to Konohagakure. To give them a better future, where you didn’t have to look over your shoulder for assassins every moment. Where children could make friends without the fear that their fathers would try to kill them.  

As he scans the crowd the bright silvery white hair is eye-catching and Madara turns to it. Only, Tobirama is not looking at Madara at all. He is watching Mito as she leaves. And his face…Madara had never even imagined that Tobirama could look as he does in this moment.

He looks soft. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, and a proud smile graces his lips. He looks amazed. And then he lowers his head, even now, invisible as he is, unwilling to share too much with the world. And he laughs.

Madara can’t hear him, Tobirama is so far away that it would be impossible. But he can tell. He just knows that it was a quiet laugh, but one filled with relief, and wonder; it's written all over the Senju's face and in those deep red eyes.

Tobirama looks up then, and he meets Madara's eyes. Madara expects the expressions to fall away, for Tobirama's face to drop into the cold and emotionless mask that he has become accustomed to seeing across a battlefield over the years. Instead, the face just registers surprise, and then Tobirama raises an eyebrow.

It shocks Madara into turning away. He calls out to two of the nearest shinobi and asks them to escort the Uzumaki princess back, but it's mechanical.

He turns to his people again. Madara is so confused, he wants a moment alone, or with Izuna. He wants to confront the ghost he can still see, away from prying eyes. He sets it all aside for a moment with years of practice. Black and red Uchiha eyes look to him, and he must speak now. He grips the familiar handle of his father’s, his gunbai.

"There is only one single thing that matters more to me than the memory of our family, my brothers, my friends. And that is knowing that we take steps to ensure we do not follow them too early.” He pauses to gather his thoughts. Madara is not eloquent, not the way Izuna is. Yet the words come to him, perhaps from the strength of his desire to explain himself. Konoha is rising from the ground while there remain echoes of unease, of discontent. Of grief that cannot yet be overcome. It cannot be allowed to take root there.

He says, “We are shinobi, we are Uchiha. We deal in death, and we always will. But we will not die young at the hands of the Senju any longer. We will not send out hunting parties to kill their children when they are still fragile and easy prey, and we will not need to protect our children from the same. Your lives, to me, are worth leaving it behind.” Izuna catches Madara’s eye then, he has a proud smile on his face. “This is why Konoha will keep us safe, why Hashirama asked for a ceasefire just weeks after I killed his last brother,” Madara takes another steadying breath. “We are going to forgive them. We are going to be forgiven. And we are going to build a hidden village worth dying for.”

They are all so quiet. There’s usually some talking back, or at least a bit of teasing. He has to ask, “Aren’t we?” It was meant to sound stern, edging towards threatening, the way father sounded when he assumed full command. Instead, Madara’s question sounded like a plea; childish in its simplicity. The faces before him are terribly earnest, though, when they nod or murmur assent. He had their support already; their loyalty to him has been all that brought them this far into the village’s construction. But now, Madara finally feels the certainty that this can be more. That they are willing to learn to love Konohagakure as their own.

He stands and watches as they disperse when he doesn’t speak further. Maybe he should offer them something more, but Madara is done. Even Izuna and Hikaku leave, although the latter does squeeze Madara’s elbow first.

Finally, only the white-haired Tobirama shade and Madara are left, just standing in the middle of the grounds at an unfairly early time of the night. The other man looks at Madara curiously, as though he’s seeing something strange. It’s just as calculating as his gaze used to be when seen across a battlefield, only there’s no hostility. Madara realizes suddenly that it’s the absence of his own fear and hatred that is making the difference. Tobirama looks as he always did, if freer without his happuri in place.

“Join me in my room,” says Madara quietly. He doesn’t know what this is, and any shinobi knows the dangers of the unknown. There cannot be any harm in talking to him, he hopes. Their conversation had been civil before Mito’s (and Kagami’s) interruption. Perhaps further conversation would shed more light on Tobirama’s strange…predicament.

 

* * *

 

Madara heads for an armchair, pauses, then moves to the window instead. Apparently, he still wasn’t convinced that Tobirama did not mean to hurt him. He says, “You can sit.” And then “ _Can_ you sit?” and Tobirama settles himself in the nearest chair in answer. He wonders if he should speak first. He gives the Uchiha another moment - which he spends staring like a fool – so he says, “You were in the middle of thanking me for Izuna’s life when we were interrupted, I think.”

Madara’s sudden anger is obvious in the way he stiffens and his chakra sparks. Black eyes narrow. The expression is so familiar that Tobirama can’t resist (as he never could resist, when it came to this aggravating man before him) so he adds, “or perhaps you meant to apologize for murdering me?”

It pushes him over the edge as expected. “I was defending my clan, Senju. You stabbed my brother. We had no formal ceasefire- you can’t possibly blame me for what happened!” There’s the fury. That sudden bubbling rage of Madara’s that always resulted in chaos, in messes Tobirama had to fix. It’s such a disappointment. Tobirama had banked on the fact that not losing Izuna could make Madara reasonable. When they had spoken earlier, he had almost believed Madara was different.

“Calm down before you attract attention,” snaps Tobirama rising, because Madara’s chakra was building in the room with his anger. Tobirama waits as the Uchiha does just that; visibly collecting himself, closing his eyes as he pulls his chakra back into tight control. Then Tobirama steps closer and says, “Did Izuna tell you what happened? That I made a mistake, but I was trying to undo it, that I healed him even though he would not even give me his word that he would stop slaughtering my clansmen?”

He’s closer now, just an arms-length away, “I could have let him die.” Madara flinches back at that, but he doesn’t stop, wants to hurt the man before him, “The same logic applies, it was a battle, there was no _formal ceasefire_ -” he hisses, throwing Madara’s words back at him, “- and he was trying to slit my throat at the time.” Kami-Sama, what was Tobirama doing? He wasn’t here to antagonize Madara, he had had plans. Trust the fool clan head to derail them by just being aggravating.

Tobirama takes three steps backwards, and rubs his hands through his hair. “No matter. None of this matters. I’m dead. You can see me. This is what we have to work with.” He glances back at Madara and sees him looking…contrite? He brushes the thought aside, it’s unlikely he would feel such an emotion.

Madara cautiously sits down in the chair across from him. “You…mentioned the taxes?” Tobirama exhales. Breathing is optional, but he clings to it, to the normalcy of allowing air in and out of his lungs. It wasn’t an apology, but at least Madara was making an attempt at civility. He can meet him half-way. Some heretofore silent part of Tobirama wants to hear it, wants Madara to say, ‘Yes, I’m sorry I killed you,’ but he squashes that ruthlessly. “Yes, the civilian taxes. You’ll need to rewrite them, it’s not just the funding for the schools…”

Madara pulls out an empty parchment and scrawls down what Tobirama says. He stops him, twice, to ask questions. “Why can’t we just add that to the sales taxes,” he asks of the service charges Tobirama wants him to add for eateries, and “Is a civilian judicial system relevant right now?” But the rest of the time, he takes notes, sometimes adding points that he could bring up when talking to the others. It’s more peaceful than Tobirama had expected.

“You’re really good at this,” says Madara quietly, when they have wrapped up. It is the first time he meets his eyes since they had argued. “I am,” says Tobirama. Madara looks conflicted about something. He opens his mouth then diverts his eyes and looks back down at his notes.

“I will brief Izuna about what we’ve discussed right now, and he’ll raise it tomorrow during discussions. We’ll have to rewrite the whole thing,” he says, probably only just realizing, and his face falls almost comically. Tobirama is confused though. “Why won’t you tell them yourself? It’s a waste of time to ask Izuna.”

“I don’t speak at meetings, Senju,” he says. Tobirama cannot fathom why. Almost all he remembers about the earliest meetings when they established Konoha was getting into shouting matches with Madara because the Uchiha would never _shut up_ in meetings. Even when he was clearly less informed than Tobirama was. “Why?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter. You wanted to fix this issue, and I’m helping. We’ll get it done.”

“But this isn’t the only issue, there are so many things you need to work on that I can help with. I’m-” he cuts himself off before he can say, ‘more experienced,’ because how would he explain that he’d been Hokage for years? “-excellent at planning,” he says instead. “Everything already has to go through you, you’re just going to be wasting more time!”

Madara is quiet for a moment. “Then I’ll rewrite this in the form of an anonymous proposal and they can read it over together when we meet,” he says dismissively. Infuriatingly.

Tobirama tries to keep his voice level, as he says, “For goodness’ sake. What is your problem? Don’t tell me _Uchiha Madara_ is too good to present ideas that aren’t his own or so help me I’ll-”

“I can’t say this tomorrow, because your brother will be there,” he interrupts. That shuts Tobirama up. What? That made no sense at all. He doesn’t ask it aloud, but Madara elaborates. “Ever since you…since it was my fault…Your brother tries to pretend I don’t exist.” Tobirama opens his mouth to tell him off for what _must_ be childish exaggeration, when he adds, “And I help him by staying silent because when he does hear me or see me…he flinches.” He what?

“He hasn’t forgiven you?” says Tobirama incredulously. It’s not possible that Hashirama would do something like that. “You’re his best friend. He always…” _Always defends you. Even when you don’t deserve it in the slightest._ Because Tobirama remembers the chaos and death Madara had wrought on their fledgling village, remembers that until the very end Hashirama had held out hope for Madara to see reason. To return to his side. But Madara gives a hollow laugh, “I’m not aiming for forgiveness, Tobirama. I’d settle for not disgusting him. For being able to act civil to one another in front of any new clans, at least.” He’s right, Tobirama realizes. Any clan that joined them would notice if the Senju and Uchiha clan heads weren’t speaking, and they would surely try to exploit the obvious weakness.

Tobirama finds it difficult to believe Madara, however. This was Hashirama, his visionary of a brother who had met with the same heart-breaking losses as everyone in their world, and decided he would be the first one to not seek revenge. This was his _Shodaime_ , the man he’d served faithfully until his death. Yet Madara’s expression makes it clear that he believes his own words.

“He wouldn’t do that,” he whispers, finally. “You should try talking to him.”

Madara shakes his head. “If he doesn’t want me to, then I can only respect that. It’s alright though, if by the time the Sarutobi are ready to move in, Hashirama and I have not yet come to an accord, then I will resign and let Izuna be clan-head.”

For a moment he tastes sweet victory. If Madara would step aside of his own volition, there would be no resentment or fear that the Uchiha were being deliberately suppressed. Years of petty internal squabbling that distracted from other more important affairs could be resolved.

But then Tobirama truly looks at the man standing before him. The power-hungry man who had abandoned their village when Tobirama had interfered with letting him be the Shodai Hokage would not make this offer. Yet the Uchiha meets his eyes and Tobirama can see the steady resolve there, alongside a heart-deep sadness. Not the familiar mad grief for Izuna but a quieter and no less intense sorrow for the loss of…Hashirama?

For the first time the absolute difference between the man _he_ remembers and the man Hashirama had always been fighting for is clear to him, because this Madara before him is the one his brother had once loved.

Tobirama had come back determined to salvage the situation, but he now understands the immensity of what he has accomplished by saving Izuna. With _this_ Madara at his side, his brother would never falter.

He feels his lips stretch slowly into a smile without his permission. “You can let Izuna make the presentation this once,” he says. “But tomorrow, we need to discuss our plans to get Hashirama to forgive you.” Madara’s eyes widen in surprise. He shakes his head, “That’s not possible,”

“My brother is a stubborn oaf who _never_ gives up on people. We just have to remind him that he hasn’t given up on you.” Madara looks dubious, but Tobirama suspects that he’s feeling at least a little spark of hope. Tobirama certainly is.

 

* * *

 

Madara looks far better today than he had the day before. Hashirama eyes him critically where he’s sitting, eyes focused on his notes as always. Whatever it was that had frightened him hadn’t caused permanent damage. When Mito enters a few minutes late, he actually gives her a faint smile in addition to the usual nod of acknowledgement. Hashirama feels a spark of pride on her behalf. Clearly her actions last night had made an impression.

Madara still doesn’t speak, but there’s no time to linger on it because the three Uchiha have somehow come up with several addendums and changes to what they had worked on yesterday. Fortunately. it has all been well thought out and Mito and Hashirama agree almost immediately after hearing each point. It’s quicker work than usual, and then they move on to what they had planned for today. He feels good, for a change. When they finish, and as they are about to go their separate ways (they have more work apart than they do together, there are stacks of paperwork awaiting Hashirama at his own desk) when Madara says softly, “Hashirama?”

Hashirama freezes and Mito subtly moves between them. Izuna stares incredulously at Madara, who is for some reason looking at the window.

There’s a long moment where no one moves, then he speaks, “If you are amenable…could I have a word? Alone?”

The words, “Of course,” stumble out of his mouth. Hikaku quickly clears out, but Izuna gives Madara a warning look before he leaves. Mito looks at him assessing, trying to decide perhaps if he truly wants this.

He doesn’t think he could have done this even yesterday, if Madara had asked. But yesterday, it was Mito herself who’d reminded him, when she left to talk the Uchiha. I’m going to ask them to leave their dead behind, she had said yesterday, leaving him wallowing, wondering why he couldn’t do the same.

“It’s fine, Mito,” he tells her, and watches as she slowly exits the room. He turns to find Madara standing awkwardly near his chair.

The silence after the others’ departure is oppressive. He doesn’t want to start though, afraid that however hard he tries he’s going to say, ‘ _How could you, you bastard, that was Tobirama, that was my_ _baby brother,’_ so he takes a seat and waits.

Madara is looking out the window again. If it wasn’t for the distress clear on his face, Hashirama might have walked out for being ignored. Finally, Madara speaks. “There’s something that I want to show you, Hashirama. May I?” It’s clear he means a genjutsu, even without Madara gesturing towards his own eyes.

It's almost laughable that he’s asking Hashirama for this now.  

“Trust me on this?” Madara asks, and the words ‘ _I did trust you,_ _you took my brother, you took him, he’s gone’_ war with _‘I still can’t hate you, why is it so hard’_ and catch in his throat. Because Madara sounds… resigned, as if he’s so sure that Hashirama will refuse him. It is this that tips him into a decision.

“Okay,” he says. Black eyes snap to his as if to say, ‘really?’ but Hashirama is certain.

He had trusted Madara before, and that had cost him Tobirama’s life and Madara’s friendship. Logic, (which still sounds like Tobirama’s voice in his head), calls Hashirama a fool. ‘ _Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, brother,’_ he had loved to say, most often during Hashirama’s early attempts to woo Mito _._ But Hashirama _is_ a fool, always has been. So he will give Madara a second chance.

Madara is looking at him like he has never seen him before, eyes wide. “You will have to begin,” Hashirama tells him. Black eyes turn red, he sees the spinning tomoe for just a fraction of a second, then everything around him disappears.

 

* * *

 

Madara keeps glancing at Tobirama. Fortunately, he must have anticipated that this would happen and positioned himself in front of the open window. When Tobirama had told him yesterday that he needed time to come up with a plan, Madara had expected that to mean a week _at least._ Instead, Tobirama had come gliding into his office this morning while he was talking to Izuna, and watched impatiently from an empty chair until he dismissed his brother. He had then sketched out instructions for Madara to follow.

Madara’s still not sure why he is taking instructions from a ghost. It is possibly for the chance to make up with Hashirama and the strange urge to humor Tobirama as retribution for killing him, but he didn’t want to consider that too closely.

That Hashirama _agrees_ to the scheme is mind boggling. Tobirama doesn’t say ‘I told you so,’ but the sentiment is clear in his expression when Madara gives him a quick glance. Madara activates his Sharingan, and starts weaving the vision. Tobirama is standing beside him now, describing the genjutsu he should be creating.

“Start in the forest outside our borders. The trees are older now, the shade darker. You walk up to a huge gate, with the Konoha leaf inscribed overhead. Two shinobi with leaf hitai-ate jump down to greet you…” Madara lets the voice wash over him, directing the genjutsu to mold itself to Tobirama’s descriptions.

The village builds itself up through his words, marketplaces, the academy, and training grounds, and little things, the flower stalls on the ramen stalls, the children of the village laughing as they run through it, all described more vividly than Madara’s imagination has ever seen. The gentle cadences of Tobirama’s voice provide the threads and Madara spins it together, this mesmerizing dream of what could be, of what they are here to accomplish.

He lets the genjutsu fade out gently, not wanting to make the return to reality uncomfortable. Hashirama’s eyes fill with tears when the glassy sheen from the jutsu drops away. “How? That was…” the tears escape his eyes and fall down his cheeks as Hashirama starts crying in earnest. That wasn’t the reaction that Madara was expecting, so he turns to Tobirama in alarm.

“It’s fine, Madara. Brother has always been a bit of a cry-baby,” he says, smiling.

“That was so beautiful,” Hashirama says. He manages a watery smile though the tears don’t seem to be slowing. He always gives in to tears so _unashamedly_. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about the other man all those years ago. Madara sits patiently, waiting for Hashirama to collect himself. Finally, he asks, “Why did you show me that, Madara?”

“You haven’t been well,” he answers, honestly. “You needed a reminder of what good you will bring to this world because you believed in peace when no one else did.” _Not even me._ He gathers his papers and stands.

“You haven’t _apologized,_ Uchiha. You’re supposed to apologize now, and tell him you’ll help him bring this to fruition,” snaps Tobirama, but Madara ignores him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hashirama,” he says.

“Of course, he can’t stick to the plan. He’s Uchiha Madara, he always knows better, he can’t listen for once in his life,” mutters Tobirama. Madara doesn’t hesitate. He had meant to listen to Tobirama, he really had. Only now, seeing Hashirama in pieces over the vision, it felt like blatant manipulation to pretend that Hashirama should forgive him so that that future could come to pass. Madara won’t hold Hashirama’s dreams hostage.

Hashirama stops Madara before he leaves. “Madara, wait. Why weren’t you there, in the vision?” he asks.

“I told you where to put yourself, you were the senior advisor, what did you do?” asks Tobirama in surprise.

Madara doesn’t meet either of their eyes. “I don’t know if I’m going to be there,” he says quietly. Tobirama looks livid “You are _way_ off script, you _Uchiha_.”

Hashirama just looks confused. “Where else would you go? Izuna and Hikaku were there.”

Madara steels himself, and says, “I’m not necessary for the final outcome. You’re the heart of Konoha. All of this is your dream.” _Yours, and your brother’s._

“Tell me to leave, and I’ll go. Right now even, if you like. You’ll never hear from me again,” he says. It’s spur of the moment, a wild promise, but one that Madara has every intention of keeping. Hashirama seems to shrink, head down, arms curling around himself. “Why? Why would you?”

“Because I killed Tobirama,” he says. Hashirama reels backward. “You wanted peace for his sake as much as yours, and I stole it from him. From you. I don’t know if you can ever accept me after what I’ve done.” Tobirama had sounded shocked when he heard that Hashirama hadn’t forgiven Madara yet. But Madara was an older brother, he knew better. He knew how strong Hashirama had been to force this peace through at the moment of his grief. The man before him is hailed as the God of Shinobi for military prowess, but it is his stubborn belief in peace that is his greatest power.

If Madara had been half as strong as Hashirama is, they could have ended the fighting as soon as their fathers died. Instead, he had turned his back on Hashirama then, and all the lives lost in the interim are on his own head. It does not matter whether or not Madara will be at his side, the village that Hashirama wants, the one Tobirama had just raised in their minds…he doesn’t need to be there for that.

“Send me away if you like,” he repeats. His words are careful, deliberate. He means every one. “But Hashirama. If you will have me…I will _never_ fail you again.”

Madara’s eyes are stinging as he speaks but it has to be a side effect of the intricate genjutsu he had just cast. He is _not_ tearing up.

“Don’t you start blubbering now, this wasn’t what I wanted you to do!” hisses Tobirama unhelpfully, but Madara only has eyes for Hashirama. He’s crying unreservedly again, but he reaches out a hand to Madara. “ _Stay._ Stay, Madara. I need you.”

Madara sinks to his knees before him. _Anything you want. I thought I was your equal but I’m not. I could not forgive myself for this. You’re the better man._ His throat feels twisted in pain, his vocal chords stretched near to breaking with words he cannot articulate, solidifying so he cannot swallow around their physical presence. He cannot speak, so he just kneels before Hashirama, his hands in his.

“Stay,” says Hashirama a third time, quieter. A plea.

“Okay,” says Madara in a whisper of an exhale. His voice is still trapped in his throat, there is no oath of fealty he can speak. “Okay,” he says again, and that is his promise. Hashirama hears it, and tightens his hold on Madara’s hand. When Hikaku and Mito open the door to look inside, a moment or an hour later, Madara doesn’t know, neither one of them has moved an inch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks! Most of the angst is now out of the way. Let the hilarity and fun (let's face it, half the point of this AU was for the fun things that can happen after this) begin! I've got bits and pieces of the next few chapters written out, particularly chapters 6 and 7, so I hope I'll never go even half so long without posting again. To those of you who are still reading after all this time, all my love!
> 
> Please let me know how you felt about this chapter, was it good, bad, was it too repetitive? Was Hashirama's reaction okay or do you think he should have dragged it out more? All comments and criticisms welcome.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	5. That Stays With You Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! I really, really, really am. I meant this chapter to be done ages ago, but I typed out about half of it and then I just froze up. I am so so sorry. The people who have reviewed have been unbelievably kind and encouraging, and I want to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to tell me how you feel, what you enjoyed, and for cheering me up when I was feeling down. I moved out of my house in early July, and things have been all weird since. But every single review and all the Kudos were like making new friends and made me feel less lonely. Thank you for that. 
> 
> Most importantly, you all made me want to finish this chapter. As the Kudos count grew and grew I started freaking out and worrying that the next chapter would be disappointing for everyone... But you've all been so kind that I decided it's worth trying. Thank you for that!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Izuna waves Hikaku away but can’t find the strength to leave himself. He knows it should be fine, his brother had requested a private audience with his old friend, and there were no two men less likely to kill each other. It doesn’t stop him from feeling like a nervous rabbit, all nervous adrenaline he can’t work off. If Izuna can’t even trust them alone together, perhaps he has been too optimistic about their futures. This is the first time Hashirama is alone with his brother, and although it’s unlikely, it will be his first chance to take revenge. It’s enough to twist him up into knots.

It doesn’t help that Madara had told him nothing about wanting to speak to Hashirama in private. What on earth could he have wanted? ( _that Izuna couldn’t give him,_ he tries not to add, tries not to fear that Madara any loyalty towards that old friend would come at the cost of Madara’s relationship with Izuna)

Mito must be having reservations as well because she too stays waiting outside the door. She’s looking away from him, out the window across from them. In profile she looks calm, a touch severe but she must be worried to remain here. ‘She’s worried for  _Hashirama’s_  safety?’ Izuna wonders. He tells himself that it probably isn’t an insult to Madara that she feels that way… but he can’t see any other way to interpret it.

“My brother won’t hurt him,” he tells her, and if he sounds defensive it’s only because he never thought this would have to be said out loud.

She turns to him, wide brown eyes that look deep into his. “Perhaps not intentionally. But you cannot deny that they could still break each other. We will be here for them until they have sorted things out.” Mito appears so sincere about this that Izuna thinks he can forgive her for being right.

“Alright,” he says, and looks away from her strange gaze, feeling oddly embarrassed. He had never really realized it, but in all his life, eye-contact was something that was fleeting, a momentary meeting of eyes before frightened gazes looked away in fear. Even allies were afraid of the Sharingan and its powers. Only during undercover missions had Izuna experienced that strange feeling of people meeting his eyes. It always felt like they were looking too deep. But even then, it was because he was playing the part of a stranger. No one would ever try to meet _Uchiha Izuna_ ’s eyes, at first because the fan adorning his clothes frightened them away and later, after he had earned that terror in his own name, because they thought they would see death in his red eyes.

He had always scorned them but now he thinks he knows how they felt when they cowered away from his gaze. He can’t bring himself to look back into Mito’s probing eyes. He’s lost in thought when footsteps approach, and he turns to see Hikaku. “Izuna, you are needed. Natsume’s team haven’t completed their mission, they say they need to speak with you at once. Izuna bites his lip faintly. That team had only been on a reconnaissance mission, he wonders what could have brought them home early. He spares a glance back at the closed door.

“You can go, Uchiha san. Hikaku and I will wait for them,” says Mito. He meets her too sharp eyes again and nods gratefully. “Thank you,” At his cousin, he says as sternly as he can, “ _Stay._ ” And then walks quickly towards the Uchiha’s temporary mission head-quarters, jogging when he gets out of the building.

He will be so relieved when the joint mission-organization system is up and running, it will be a relief to share these tasks with more people.

* * *

Mito and Hikaku finally interrupt the embarrassing scene by peering around the door. Their faces show complete bafflement and Tobirama wishes that Mito could see him so they could share a commiserating look.

Madara pulls away first, withdrawing his hands and rising to his feet. He looks pretty grim, eyes still streaming as he steps away, then quickly turns on his heel and strides out, pushing the door open further and squeezing out.

Tobirama wants to follow him, to berate him for going off script, but he can’t bring himself to. The man had succeeded in their objective, after all. And for all that he had made his brother cry again, Tobirama is quite aware that something significant has just shifted. Things are different this time, and it isn’t just that Izuna is alive at the cost of his own life.

Uchiha Madara has learned humility.

Senju Hashirama has learned caution.

While it’s small consolation for losing his life unnecessarily and possibly wrecking their timeline…it is small consolation. When he looks back up at his brother contemplatively, the dark eyes are shut but the tears have ceased. Mito has taken a seat beside Hashirama, observing silently.

Finally, his brother collects himself and opens his eyes. “Are you alright?” she asks softly, and usually that would be Tobirama’s cue to flounce out of the room, with the naïve certainty that _of course_  Big Brother would be okay, he was just being a cry-baby. But he needs to hear this now, can’t corner Hashirama and demand he tell him what’s on his mind as he usually would, so he steps closer to hear his answer now.

“I will be. I have to be.” He lets out a soft laugh, so short it was a single exhale, and rubs the tears from his eyes. “I just saw the most wonderful thing, Mito. So beautiful…” his voice wavers, but a thread of awe can clearly be heard through it. He reaches out to squeeze her hand. “We just have to make it happen.”

“Does that mean you and Madara will stop slacking off?” she asks, bluntly, but there’s a tilt to her smile that Tobirama can read as complete relief. Hashirama laughs again, and it’s a little stronger this time. Like the right muscles are remembering their function and coming creakily to life.

They’re interrupted by a quick rap on the door, and Toka steps inside. There’s a small, satisfied smile on her face, which widens when she sees Hashirama. Clearly, she too was tired of his brother grieving.

“I have more good news, if you’d like to hear it. Or I can save it up for when we’re in short supply.”

“Do not tease, Toka. What happened?” he asks.

“The Sarutobi have accepted the most recent terms, and their first teams will be arriving in a week’s time.” It was more wonderful news, and quite welcome, Tobirama thinks, after his brother’s day.

* * *

Minoru is temporarily in charge of the two teams that will be facilitating the clan’s move to Konoha. Somehow he had expected it to look emptier; the place has already started to look like a village. His shinobi keep eyeing things in surprise. It’s one thing to _know_ that the Uchiha could not always be warlike and dangerous, but it’s entirely another thing to be able to meet their eyes as they smile and escort you to your lodgings.

_Sarutobi_

Izuna thinks that the most interesting thing about the Sarutobi joining the village was that they had four civilian families with them. Senju and Uchiha tended to go civilian only for child rearing, after retirement, or when there was less need for active shinobi, and even then, they usually kept up with basic training to keep in shape. He wonders if with their example, with the new influx of strong shinobi, some of his clans-people might not choose to do the same.

_Uchiha_

Touka will not admit it to anyone for the world, but as a child, she had had an immense crush on Sarutobi Chiyori. The clans were on good enough terms to allow for occasional visits, and ever since the first time she’d seen the older woman, she had been impressed by her strength and grace. Even now, the thought of sharing a village with her brings her a flicker of joy she cannot suppress.

_Senju_

His clan had never been as active in the clan wars as many of the others. They were powerful enough to be dangerous opponents without being aggressive enough for other clans to seek out their destruction. Daisuke had been wary of joining this village, worrying they may be opening themselves to the possibility of conflict. His son, Sasuke, had entreated that he look beyond those fears. Daisuke is an old man, but he can see hope in his children’s eyes so when he is asked to join this mad endeavor, he says _yes_.

_Sarutobi_

This time it is easier. Tempers don’t run high, and while the Sarutobi are just as strong and deadly as any of them, there’s a distinct lack of bodies between them; no violent history over the last two decades. They’re welcomed with smiles, and they’re welcomed with relief. The basic machinery of the village is now operational, and it looks. It looks like they will finally succeed.

_Konohagakure._

* * *

"Madara, stay back a moment," said Hashirama, after the meeting. Izuna glanced at them as he left, but the room cleared out quickly enough. Except for Tobirama, who had been standing by the window who comes over to sit beside Madara now in Izuna’s vacated chair. Hashirama hands over Izuna’s report to Madara, who after a moment to identify it, says in surprise, “I know what happened, he told me. I’ve spoken to Kojirou as well. There’s a three-person team following them until they reach the borders of fire country and they’ll alert us if they appear to double back.”

Hashirama waves it off, “I am aware, one of the team is a Senju, and I had to sign off on it. But _this_.” He waves at a part of the report but it’s unclear to which part he is referring. “Izuna states that the unaffiliated shinobi they spotted had twin redheads, a blonde, and a blue-haired kunoichi.”

Madara nods, “Yes, and a black-haired kunoichi with green eyes. Why?”

“Because I _know_ that group of shinobi. They’re a group that specializes at one very specific task; kidnapping and killing shinobi children.”

Madara freezes. “We did not _subcontract_ the child-killing out to other parties to appear blameless, Hashirama. Ever since my father died we absolutely _never_ -”

“ _I know!”_ There’s something forceful in his voice, and Madara dials down the low-key panic as he realizes that that hadn’t been an accusation. He should be embarrassed for the outburst, but he’s mostly just relieved.

“ _Honestly,_ ” says Tobirama under his breath.

“Forgive me, how do you know of them? Uchiha intelligence has never caught mention of such a group.”

“My mother was a Hatake. Ever since she died we’ve mostly lost contact, but they warned us a few years ago to be wary of them. It seems they prey particularly on the smaller clans, where children are less well defended.”

That would at least explain why the Uchiha had never seen or heard of them.

“Are the shinobi we’ve sent after them in danger? If they’ve remained undetected we could just send reinforcements.” He’s only just heard about this group but they already disgust him. If they send a large enough force to crush them…

“Actually,” Hashirama says, “I was wondering if you could cover for me here, while I caught up to them and dealt with them myself.”

Madara just stares. Tobirama snaps, “You are a font of imbecilic ideas, brother.” There are so many things Madara wants to know that it takes him a moment to order them.

“The Shimura clan envoys arrive in two days. You want me to _cover_ for you? They’re coming in good faith to meet _you_!

“And what do you mean by ‘deal with them,’ if it gets out that we are killing shinobi, and not in self-defense, then we’ll be painting a giant target on ourselves. I don’t want to know what would happen if the Nara or Hatake decide that it’s worth their while to wipe us out. They won’t succeed, of course, but our peace would be ruined before we start. And it’s not that I _don’t want to_ wipe out scum like that, because that’s disgusting and they deserve.” Madara stops abruptly when he realizes that Hashirama is grinning at him.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I wasn’t planning to kill them, Madara. Only scare them into not returning near our lands.”

Madara tries to imagine it, Hashirama trapping them in giant vines or trees and scolding them for their behavior. It would be frightening, of course, but as always with Hashirama it would be more of the fear that he’d kill them by accident with his immense power than belief in his actual violent intent. Yes, Hashirama wouldn’t do well at _all_ for such a task.

“ _I’ll_ do that. I can be properly frightening.”

Hashirama looks at him dubiously. “You told me yourself all the reasons why we can’t kill them.” Madara feels himself flushing and hears Tobirama laugh from beside him.

“I am as capable of not killing them as you are.” he says, through clenched teeth. Hashirama frowns thoughtfully at his report and shrugs. Madara is going to take that as a ‘Yes Madara is perfectly right again,’ shrug, and not a ‘What the hell, I don’t like them anyway, so I won’t be broken up about it if he does kill them’ shrug. From the snort that sounds from beside him, he suspects that Tobirama chose the other meaning.

* * *

Tobirama has been seriously reconsidering his stance on luck ever since his unplanned demise. While the very idea used to make him cringe, he is finding it nearly impossible to attribute anything but Sheer. Dumb. Rotten. Luck. to his current situation. Perhaps it is Madara's own fault, but Tobirama  _can barely believe this is happening-sweet Hagoromo preserve him_.

He follows in chilly, angry silence as three Yashagoro clan children, their eyes wide and panicked, half carry and half drag Madara through the undergrowth. Tobirama only identifies them with the familiar and distinctive clan markings because the Yashagoro had joined Konoha during the second year of his own Hokage-ship. He has never seen these particular children before. That Madara had been taken down by three genin-level children… he would find it hilarious if Madara wasn't so still and pale. Or faintly turning blue.

Helpless and furious about it, Tobirama stomps noiselessly after the four shinobi. He hopes the Uchiha clan-head lives so he can  _throttle him._ The children run as quickly as they can, but it’s obvious that their strength is flagging, especially since they’re trying to take Madara with them. At one point the child with a scar down his cheek stops and bursts into tears. “We aren’t going to get back in time,” he says angrily and rubs at his face with a sleeve almost violently, with that childish disdain for tears even as he fails to collect himself enough to stop crying.

“We have to, and he’s a pretty big shinobi, it probably won’t kill him that fast.” The girl speaking is taller and has lighter hair, though she too has the distinct purple eye-marks framing yellow eyes. It is entirely possible that Madara’s chance of surviving has already dropped too low for him to be salvageable, and Tobirama is fast losing hope when a new shinobi appears out of the forest along with a gust of wind.

“Children!”

What follows is a confused mess as the three children try to explain what had happened, dropping Madara ungraciously on the ground as they crowd the young man who had just arrived, tugging him towards Madara’s prone body.

“-and then there were five of them, and they tried to kill Akurra-”

“- just came out of nowhere and killed them all - ”

“- We only were trying to gather the wild persimmons – ”

“Ren stabbed him with the Elapid toxin senbon!” the youngest shrieks then, clearly done with the other two’s incoherent explanation. It shocks the other two into silence, and he continues, “He _saved_ us, and then she stabbed him.” The man frowns and turns Madara over. From a storage scroll, he pulls out an advanced-looking first aid kit and snaps “Show me the puncture wound and the senbon,” The senbon, yellow-green, and slightly longer than usual is offered up. He glances at it and pulls out what must be the right vial of antivenin from his kit and loads it into a syringe. With practiced ease, he administers the injection and seals away his supplies.

“I’m going to carry him back, I will be back for you shortly. Stay here, hide. If the other shinobi return, then _do not engage them_.” The man shunshins away, and Tobirama is left alone with three children and no idea where Madara has been taken, or if he will survive.

“But they’re dead,” Ren mutters, at a loss. She was wrong, Madara had probably killed only one of them, had been aiming only to incapacitate, not kill. He wonders at the size of them and how little they knew about the shinobi arts if they couldn’t even tell the living from the dead yet. He thinks that he remembers the children of the Yashogoro being more…precocious.

It quickly switches to alarm when they begin to discuss checking out the ‘bodies’ of the enemy shinobi to see if they can find out who they were. Fortunately, the man returns with three others and several snakes before the children can talk themselves into going back.

“Ren! Akurra! Keiko! What were you _thinking,_ ” The children are efficiently scolded, hugged, and ordered back home by one of the new young men, while the other men, a woman, and some of the snakes set off to deal with the enemy shinobi. Tobirama trails after the children and their caretaker, watching with interest as one of the larger snakes carefully inspects the children, hissing at length, sometimes spilling over into human speech as it scolds them. ‘Irressponssible younglingsss.’

From the speed with which the first Yashagoro had brought reinforcements, Tobirama had expected a short walk. Instead, it takes them nearly two hours to reach some more of the Yashagoro, and a system of caves. They split up then, a worried young woman calling out to the errant youngsters, and Tobirama decides to follow the man in the hope he would lead him to someone in charge, if only to make a report. He’s pleasantly surprised when he leads him straight to the infirmary where Madara lies on a pallet on the floor.

Tobirama is at his side instantly, observing his complexion, the faint flutter of a pulse in his throat, the pinched expression in his eyes.

“Koushi was right, the children were not injured. They’re with Ayashi now,” says the man.

An old woman, with greying hair and paler eyes than the others he’s seen thus far, answers, “That is a relief.”

“And…the stranger?” he asks, sitting down beside her.

“He will be fine as well, Kohaku. Ayashi diluted the venom before she gave it to Ren. Fortunately, that spared his life, and Koushi was quick with the antivenin.”

The man twitches, clearly having something else to say.

“He will be alright in a few hours, child.” That makes him relax a little.

The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes before the man, Kohaku, becomes restless again. When the old lady does not acknowledge it, he speaks out, “Grandmother. Surely someone else can watch the stranger? We could leave.”

“You may go. I do not have anything else to be doing, right now. And when my great-granddaughter nearly kills a Clan-head, I think I can wait at his side to offer him an apology.”

Kohaku looks like he’s bitten into a particularly acrid lemon. “Which clan is he?”

“Uchiha. This man is Uchiha Madara.”

From the expression on his face Tobirama reads horror, hatred, and disgust; it’s obvious that there was some sort of bad blood here. “He’s Uchiha Shinji’s nephew.”

“Indeed.”

“And we’re _keeping him here?_ ”

The first young man, the one they call Koushi, enters the room after a quick knock, without waiting for an answer. “Is he alive?” he asks, coming to sit so close to Tobirama that he has to shift closer to Madara’s head to stay out of him.

“He will be fine if he rests. Kiyoko looked him over and said you administered the antivenin in time.”

“Did you know that this person was _Uchiha Madara_ , brother?” asks Kohaku. The newcomer stiffens. “I did not,” he says quietly. Unlike Kohaku, his expression remains blank and Tobirama finds that more troubling than the outright hatred.

He turns to the woman as though he hadn’t been interrupted, to say, “We picked up the shinobi who attacked the children, Grandmother. They seem to be professional child-stealers. We found…trophies.” The studied blankness makes Tobirama think that the trophies must have been hideous.

“Are they dead?” she asks calmly.

“No, we have four alive. One died of asphyxiation from a broken neck.” He doesn't sound like it had been a significant loss.

“After the Uchiha awakes, I should think I would like to have a word with them. Don’t kill them before then, please,” she says. The man nods to her and rises gracefully to his feet. He glances at his brother, then Madara, then leaves without a word.

“And there is our reason to be grateful that the Uchiha interfered,” the woman says, several long minutes later. Kohaku says nothing, and they sit beside Madara in silence, unknowing that Tobirama is sitting with them, doing the same.

* * *

It takes Mito more than a week to find a moment when Toka was free and to shore up enough of her courage to talk to her. It helped that Toka was more busy than usual, as the Senju the Sarutobi were most comfortable with, having known her longer. But she finally does find that courage and lets herself into Toka’s room after they were both done with their duties for the day.

“You seem better,” says Mito, stepping out onto Toka’s balcony. Toka is sitting cross-legged on the roof above her, and when shading her eyes doesn’t block out the evening sun enough for her to get a good look at her friend, she turns back around to look over the railing. The view here is pleasant, the balcony overlooks a small street. There’s no one on it now, but it still looks cheerful. It’s not hard to imagine children or couples strolling down it at the end of a long day.

“I had time,” answers Touka. They’re silent for several moments, then Toka says, “I heard you returned Madara’s gunbai to him.” She doesn’t _sound_ angry, but it’s awful not to have the visual cues to confirm that, just in case.

“I did,” says Mito. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Toka jumps down lightly beside Mito. “Don’t look so wary, I’m not upset with you. Anymore.”

“Oh.” She swallows down the _so you don’t hate me_ that she’s been desperate to ask.

“When I first heard about it, I was really angry,” Toka says quietly. She’s pointedly looking down so Mito only sees her profile, her fringe falling forward to obscure much of her face. “I wanted to feel betrayed so that I could hate you.”

Mito is twisting her left sleeve, in the absence of something else to fill her hands. She doesn’t want to interrupt Toka, but she desperately wants to apologize. To tell her that she hadn’t meant her actions as a betrayal, how could she betray someone so dear to her?

Toka continues, “But then I realized that what you did, that was probably why Hashirama was laughing that day when I got home. And I wanted to be angry at him too, I wanted to know how he could possibly forgive anyone after.” She drops her head lower, no longer looking at anything at all.

Her voice goes even softer. “But I _liked it,_ Mito.” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I _wanted_ to see him laugh. Hashirama is my little brother too, and I hated seeing him like that.” There are tears gathering in her eyes as she speaks. “He was laughing like he finally remembered how, and the only thing I could think of was that if Tobirama was. Was alive, that’s what he would have wanted.

“He always thought that Hashirama was the whole entire world. I mean, he saved Izuna for Hashirama, not for _Madara._ ” She stops.

She looks up at Mito then, warm dark eyes filled with tears. “No. I want to say it’s because I know that it’s what Tobirama wanted but. That’s just an excuse. I was just so tired of being angry!” The last few words rush out and Toka starts crying in earnest. “And he’s _right_ , Mito, the peace is good, it’s what we need and already things are _so much better_ than they used to be. I just want him _back!”_ and then she’s sobbing, loud and broken, the way she hadn’t at Tobirama’s funeral or any time since then. Mito gathers her into her arms, pulls her closer, and strokes the soft black hair as Toka cries into her shoulder.

“I want him back, it’s not _fair,_ ” She cries like the world is ending, sometimes goes too long without a breath and then she coughs and gasps before the next loud sob is torn out of her. Mito has never seen Toka like this. And she can do nothing except hold this dear person close, rest her chin on Toka’s head and make quiet, “Shh, it’s okay, it’ll all be okay, shh,” noises. Tears stream down her own cheeks because it feels like she’s lying; that nothing will ever be okay again.

“You’re okay Toka, it’s fine, shh,” she lies, wishing with every fiber of her being that it was true.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you thought! Your comments really make my day, and I'd love to hear your opinions. Toka breaking down wasn't even supposed to happen... but I guess it felt like she hadn't processed it otherwise? If it feels out of place, then that's why.
> 
> And oh yes, you would have seen A LOT of OCs in this chapter for the Sarutobi and the Snake clan, particularly since I don't think Orochimaru's clan was even supposed to exist at this point. I made up a lot of hand-wavy history between the Uchiha and the "Yashagoro" (Do they really not even have a clan name?) Which reminded me of this: I have a really hard time coming up with names! If anyone spots a horrible name, (for example, one character was named 'Sataku,' until I learned that it meant Japantown), or names where I've gotten the names and genders mixed up, let me know and I'll change it. And if you have _suggestions_ for names, I think the Yashagoro are sufficiently populated, but there's still Shimura, Yamanaka+Akimichi+Nara, and Hyuuga _at least._ Please drop me shinobi baby names if you have time to spare, I'd be so grateful. You can leave a comment on AO3, or you could find me on Tumblr, where I also go by Nillegible. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! I'm not sure when the next update will be (sorry!) but I have also written a one-shot for amihan based on Slight Miscalculation (you can find the link to it below!) inspired by a beautiful picture of Madara and Ghost!Tobirama that she drew. You could take a look at that if you like!

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave a comment. Criticism and pointers welcome!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [At Your Side](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724287) by [Nillegible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nillegible/pseuds/Nillegible)




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